Five years

 This is never an easy post or easy statement to make. 

Five years, five years since my life changed drastically. Never actually taking the time to sit back and realize the damage it caused. If you didn’t know. March 22nd 2017, I was brutally attacked by my bully. She alongside others, harassed and threatened my family and I for months prior to the attack. In person, and online. I already at this time suffered severe anxiety & depression. Leaving my previous school due to bullying as well. Months before being trapped in a mental hospital for nine days and eight nights. My brother & sister both experiencing traumatic events within the same time line, effecting my family as well. I was 15. With what felt like the world on my shoulders. During this time, and this was a detail I left out for years. I was in an abusive relationship as well. Instead of receiving help I was made fun of and talked down upon for that. I didn’t matter in this world. Then it happened. My bully approached me asking me if she could vent to me about her own mental health issues. To which I agreed, because that’s who I am. Once she dropped the bomb of some pretty heavy stuff in the bathroom stall she lured me into, she asked for a hug. I hesitated, but gave in. Next thing I know she was choking me out, and that was the start of the fight of my life. She stabbed me, bit me, scratched, and threatened my life one final time when I convinced her to stop. She called the police on my phone, and caressed me until I was “saved”. At the hospital I was numb, all I could think about was my friends and not myself. Family visiting me that night, for an unknown reason my little cousin had a seizure in front of us all. Yet after all I went through that day, the only tears I shed were because of pickles on my burger. After this I stood with my abuser for awhile.

Adding more months to the trauma. I was diagnosed with ptsd. I couldn’t eat, sleep, use the bathroom. It also stunted my academics in the last years of high school. For some reason, the people in my highschool took this as a “fight over a boy”. Which caused me to get made fun of for the next years of high school as well. Using my trauma as a story to tell, a story that isn’t theirs. 

Now you’re probably wondering, well you’re twenty…why should this matter now? 

My answer to you is, you think my ptsd disappeared? That everything magically was okay. I was the same girl that could function normally? The answer is no. The truth is. I never processed my trauma, I never faced it head on. Sometimes due to trauma the brain will store it away, make you ignore it. 

My brain did that until I was no longer in that school. Now at twenty, everything’s been pouring out. It’s exhausting, painful, and I’m tired of running away. As an adult, I find myself not being able to do things most people my age can. You know what. That’s okay. Life wasn’t fair to me, it’s still not. However, everyday I take that challenge and try to better myself. I don’t know how long it’ll take me to feel better in regards to my trauma, so I take it day by day. 

I am safe. I am strong. I have a purpose in this life. 

I’ll continue using my voice, my story. To advocate for mental health, and bullying. Nobody can ever take that away from me.